What A 'Trip'
by SlashtasticFangirl
Summary: Harry Potter just broke up with Ginny Weasley, who proceeded to hex him with a Confundus spell. What happens when Harry (literally) stumbles into the Slytherin common room at dinner time? Well, don't ask me, read it yourself. :3


~~ What a Trip ~~

The Great Hall was abuzz as hungry witches and wizards eagerly sat down for their dinner feast, which appeared magically before their eyes right on schedule. Above them, the enchanted ceiling portrayed a starry, serene night sky. Outside of the hall, however, the boy-who-lived was having a less than serene night. He had just broken up with his seventeen year old girlfriend, Ginny Weasley, who had been so distraught that she used a Confundus hex on him before running off to her brother Ron. Harry clumsily leaned against the cold stone walls and cautiously peeked at the Gryffindor table. There sat a perplexed Hermione, there shook a sobbing Ginny, there scowled a pissed off Ronald Weasley. 'Great,' thought Harry, 'I needed my best friends to be mad at me, too.' Hermione, however, was clearly worried about both parties. Looking back and forth between Ginny and Harry, she stood and began to head towards the latter. Ron grabbed her sleeve, and gestured to his crying sister. Hermione tried to comfort him, but his arguing ended up pushing her away, and she stormed over to Harry with angst written across her face.

Harry sighed in guilt-ridden frustration and attempted to face-palm himself; however, due to the curse on him, he ended up punching himself in the eye and knocking his glasses off instead. Hermione quickly reached his side and got his glasses off of the tile floor, not wanting him to hurt himself getting them. She, being as sharp as a whip, figured out what was wrong with him instantly. "So, a Confundus hex. I presume it's from Ginny. . . ?" Harry nodded, and ended up throwing his back against the wall involuntarily.

He swore, hissing: "Yep, Ginny." Hermione rubbed his shoulder sympathetically and tried to get him to stand up straighter; she didn't succeed.

"So, there's nothing we can do about this curse until it wears off, right?"

Hermione bit her lip and nodded. Harry surprised her by laughing.

"Harry, what on earth could be funny?"

"Sorry, I was just remembering the time you put a Confundus hex on Cormuck a few years ago. Heh, he was bumping into doorways for hours." Harry's grin faded. "It's not so funny now, though, is it?"

Hermione sighed, pushing her tawny-tinted brown curls out of her face in worry as she fixed Harry's glasses with a quick "Oculus repairo." He tried to smile gratefully, but ended up sneering crookedly, a few teeth revealed as his top lip pulled up oddly. Hermione sincerely tried not to laugh- she knew that he felt bad and that he couldn't control his body very well. But still, that face. . . Hermione burst out giggling, attempting to muffle her chuckles with her hand. Harry soon joined in, knowing that she meant no harm.

Wiping a tear from her eye, Hermione straightened her posture and said, "Harry, how are you?" he opened his mouth, but Hermione silenced him by raising her hand. "I meant, how are you really? I don't want a heroic, shrugged-off story; I want the facts."

Harry chuckled lightly-that was Hermione for you. "Well, let's see: I hurt Ginny's feelings, Ron is pissed at me, Ron is pissed at you for being here with me, and I feel like everything around me is off-kilter and spinning. Otherwise, I'm bloody peachy. You?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Tone down the drama, queen, and answer me this: was Ginny more upset about you letting her go, or about the fact that you only told her you were gay today?" Hermione's voice colored with disapproval as she concluded her sentence, and Harry knew why; he had come out to Hermione a month ago, but no one else.

He sighed. "Well, I couldn't just say 'Oh, hi Ginny. I know we've been dating for a year, but I realized that I wasn't attracted to you because of your gender. Let's stay friends, okay? I won't seem like a prat for long!' *scoff* Not to mention the fact that Ron will totally freak when he finds out. I mean, once Ginny knows something, all the Weasley's know it. How could I tell her without risking telling all of them?"

"You told her tonight," Hermione pointed out. "And that was both brave and ill-timed. Harry, you should've told her immediately instead of, well, keeping her hopes up until now. It's your six-month anniversary today for crying out loud! However, you should know that the Weasley's and you are close enough to just let them have time to blow things over. But, I'm curious- why tell her know and not then?"

Harry's stomach sloshed, and he klutzily swayed. "Er . . .well, you see, she wanted to, um, take things to the next level, now that it's been six months and all. . ." his voice trailed off, and he rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

Hermione raised her eyebrow. "Take you relationship to what level, Harry?"

"S-sex."

Hermione's hazel eyes widened in astonishment, and Harry took a mental picture- it was a rare sighting to see her surprised. She recovered quickly, though, and said "Oh . . . I see. So, you just rushed in and told her that you were gay and that it just wouldn't work out between you two? Before mentioning that you still wanted to be friends, and to not tell Ronald?"

"Geez, 'mione, do you live my life or do I?" Harry grumped.

Hermione chuckled, and said "I would never have your level of bravery to survive a day in your shoes, Harry. However, I am going to be brave and tell Ron that he shouldn't be mad at you because of this. What are you going to do?"

He snorted. "Me? I'd rather not face the Weasley's right now. And, since I need to think about how to explain things to Ron tomorrow, I think I'm just gonna skip dinner and head to the common room for some thinking."

"You sure? You really should eat- maybe you can sit by Luna or Neville for the time being?"

He shook his head, stumbling a bit as he did so. "No, I just need to be alone."

"Then you don't want me to help you to the common room, do you?"

"I'll be fine. You, however, need to patch things up with Ron and . . . comfort Ginny. I'll see you in the morning, 'kay?"

She bit her lip, but nodded in acquiescence. "Alright then. See ya, Harry." She gave him a hug, and the two shared a small moment of relief that only good friendship can bring. They parted, and it was then that he realized what a challenge the changing stair cases would be.

"It would be a miracle if I make it to the Gryffindor tower," thought Harry as the stairs under him moved to and fro from entrance to entrance, stopping so suddenly that Harry swayed violently and collapsed. "Damn it! Ugh, as if it weren't hard enough to stand right now as it is," he griped aloud to no one in particular. However, his complaint was heard- by a portrait of Severus Snape, nonetheless.

Snape glanced at Harry through his painting, and drawled: "Oh, Mr. Potter, such language to use in school. A Confundus spell, I assume? Pity."

Harry looked up at the painting, attempting and failing to get to his feet. Flushing in embarrassment, he stammered "G-good evening, Professor."

"Indeed. I must admit that it is rather . . . entertaining to watch the boy wonder stumble about like a newborn Thestral." Snape smiled lightly at his wit. "Who, may I inquire, cursed you?"

"Ginny Weasley, sir."

Snape's brow furrowed, and he stared at Harry (over his abnormally large nose!) in puzzlement. "Hm, I wouldn't have expected that."

"Why not? Did you think it would've been Malfoy instead?"

Snape blinked slowly, his equivalent of balking, before sighing and muttering "Of course not, Potter. Even I know that you two haven't really gone at it all year. Besides, he couldn't have- he's been in the common room this whole time."

"Wait, why was Draco, er, Malfoy, skipping dinner?"

Severus shook his head in disapproval, and said "Thick as ever, Potter. If only there were potions to make you smarter. Hmm, I wonder if I could make one. . ."

Harry chuckled. It was nice that he could still see Snape and his swishy robes once in a while. After the memories he saw in the Pensieve during the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry had wanted to speak to Snape and seek some redemption/solace. Through the portrait in Headmistress McGonagall's office, and this one outside of Slytherin's common room, that was possible. They had formed an almost-friendly civility, and it was nice.

However, there was still the issue with the stairs. They had yet to move, and Harry was wondering if he should just get up and try to find another flight to take him to Gryffindor tower. Wobbling to a stand, he leaned against the railing heavily and took a few drunken steps forward. One step more and he would be at the threshold of the common room door, in a hallway which would lead to . . . more stairs.

He groaned, and Snape returned his attention to Harry. It didn't take long for his dark eyes to light up intelligently and state: "Potter, that won't work. All of the stairs in this hallway lead either outside or to the Great Hall, which you are wisely avoiding at present. If you wish to get to Gryffindor tower, you will have to wait for that staircase to move again."

"Oh,fabulous. Well, thanks for letting me know. Uh, is there a spell I can use to make this thing get un-frozen?"

Snape rolled his eyes, and sarcastically drawled: "Exceptional grammatical structure, Potter, your intellect astounds me. And no, there is not. You will simply have to wait for them to move, or to get assistance somehow."

"Somehow?"

"As there is no exact spell to make them move, it is highly unlikely that anything can be done about it until the stairs themselves decide to cooperate."

Harry sighed- that made sense. Stupid magical stairs and their temperaments! "Professor, what should I do? The Confundus hasn't worn off yet, or even slowed down really. Do I just sit here forever?"

Snape sneered, a superior look on his face. "Your only other option is to go into the Slytherin common room. After all, dinner will last for another half an hour at the least."

Harry's green eyes widened in shock. "I can't go in there! It's not my house, no one else is there, and I don't even know the password."

"It doesn't matter if it is your house or not- this is an extenuating circumstance. And, if you recall, someone is in there."

Harry suddenly remembered. "Oh, yeah, Malfoy." 'But why is he there?' Harry pondered.

"That is confidential, Potter."

Harry jumped awkwardly, ramming his shoulder into the floor as he lurched forward and fell into the Slytherin hallway. "H-how did . . .?"

Snape smirked. "It is not necessary to be a mind reader when one's thoughts are rather obvious, Potter."

Harry groaned, then gasped as he felt his foot being dragged quickly aside. Instinctively, he jerked it forward to be with the rest of his body, before realizing with a sinking feeling that the jerk he felt was the banister moving under his foot. Moving away . . . "Shit!"

He was stuck- in the Slytherin hall- with little chance of the stairs returning for some time. Harry swore again. The stone git-of-a-stairway had probably done it on purpose! Or it had the invisible help of, say, Peeves. At any rate, he was fuming. The stress of the day was already high, and this was just icing on the death-day cake.

If Harry had looked closely enough, he would have seen the small smile on Snape's face. "Going somewhere, Potter? I have the password, of course."

Harry groaned and stumbled forward in a bee-line. "I guess I don't have a choice. It's better than just sitting and waiting out here." He leaned up against the door with a pained sigh, and Snape smirked and quickly said "Virulence." The door swung open, depositing a shocked Gryffindor into the arms of an equally shocked blonde Slytherin. The door slammed shut, and Harry looked up at Draco's gaping mouth, and pant-less legs. Harry felt paralyzed- Draco, in all his pale glory, was holding Harry while wearing nothing but his white dress shirt and grey boxers. The boy who lived's thoughts quickly strayed to a fantastical realm, and he tried to get back to reality by clearing his throat awkwardly and saying: "Uh, hey, Malfoy."

Malfoy stared at the boy in his arms in astonishment, thinking: 'This isn't happening. It can't be happening! Harry fucking Potter did not just trip into my arms. Of all people-! I- I need to collect myself or he's going to notice. Dammit, Harry! What's going on?' After the second it took for Malfoy to finish his thought, he composed himself and sneered. "Well, well, Potter. Come to join the better house?"

Harry snorted. "If that were the case, I would be in the Gryffindor common room right now." 'Instead of here, alone, in Draco's arms . . .' Harry panicked slightly as the thought registered and he tried to move out of Draco's grasp. Harry, however, was still uber klutzy, and he pitched forward onto the floor, breaking his glasses in the process. Draco chuckled down at him, watching as the brunette attempted to stand.

"It appears to me, Potter, that you are rather uncoordinated and, shall we say, vulnerable at the moment?"

Harry blushed, but was quick to retort: "At least I have pants on."

"Er, it's not my fault that you burst in here when I was starting to get in the shower!" Malfoy reddened slightly (in anger, yup, that's it) and quickly pulled black slacks on. After vainly smoothing invisible wrinkles from his pants, Draco again turned his attention to Harry and drawled: "Like what you saw, Potter?"

Harry started. "Eep! O-of course not, Malfoy, are you sick? Merlin's beard, you're a Slytherin!"

Draco raised a pale eyebrow in smarmy confidence. "Oh? And that bothers you, Mr. 'Not Slytherin, not Slytherin!'? I should have figured. But if I recall, it was you who just stared at my boxer-covered arse, not the other way around. "

". . . Piss off . . . prat."

The blonde one smirked, practically emanating waves of haughty superiority. It would appear that he enjoyed having the upper hand (is that really a surprise, though?) As he stood assertively, he enjoyed the show that the Gryffindor was unintentionally putting on for him. Harry was frantically trying to get to his feet, straining himself to attempt overpowering the curse and righting himself-all to no avail. He groaned, and realized that getting up would require the help of the only other wizard around.

Harry sighed dramatically, then mumbled: "Can you help me up? It's this stupid curse. . ."

"Sorry, Potter, I couldn't hear you very well. Did you say that you needed my help?"

Harry's pride was hurt, but he couldn't sit there forever, so he nodded with a spastic head jerk.

Malfoy laughed, and it was so much more than his usual snarky chuckle. He was legitly laughing, and Harry stared at him in wonder. 'Since when did Malfoy have human emotions? Could this mean it was also possible for him to feel . . . stirrings?' Harry's persistent gawping drew Draco's curious gaze to him, and Harry was tongue-tied at the silvery, lustrous shine that the other's eyes seemed to have. 'Have his eyes always been so, dare I say, pretty?' Harry then spoke on impulse, and he regretted his lack of verbal filter as soon as the following words escaped his mouth in a rush: "Have your eyes always been shiny like that?"

Draco stared at him dumbfounded. 'A pink Hippogriff would make more sense! "Where did that question come from, a cheesy fan fiction?!" 'Does he really notice my eyes . . . ?' Malfoy stayed still for a moment more, before telling Harry that he would help him up. Relief flooded the Gryffindor's face, and Draco did his best to ignore the grateful smile directed at him as he helped Harry to his shaky feet. After Harry started to stand more freely, Malfoy pulled away in embarrassment, hoping to look like holding Harry had been a disdainful task. Hoping to distract Harry, he snapped "So, what ARE you doing here?"

"I left the Great Hall after I was cursed, and the stairs took me here and didn't move. I talked to Snape, fell into the hallway, and the stairs left. He told me to come in here, and when I leaned on the door he opened it and . . . you know the rest."

Harry was flushed, but Malfoy looked outright horrified, and possibly whiter than usual. "Wait . . . you talked to Snape?"

"Um, yeah, his portrait's right outside. Not to mention there's one in here, one in Headmistress McGonagall's-"

"I know that, you git!"

"Then why did you ask if I talked to him?"

"I-he- mind your own business, Harry!" Draco snapped. Harry recoiled a bit from the sharp words, reminded of past times under the cruel rule of the Dursley's, who had frequently berated him. Draco saw the hurt he inflicted, and looked away in silent shame. Harry awkwardly stumbled into a silk, deep green armchair, and waited for Draco to speak first. He did- sort of.

"S-sorryHarryerPpotterImeanuh . . ." After Draco's garbled speech, Harry blinked in surprise, wondering if the Slytherin was cursed or gonna barf.

"Eh, are you going to be sick, Malfoy?"

Draco shot him a pained glare, made obscene finger gestures, and then grumbled another apology. Harry couldn't help but forgive him; as strange as the apology had been, Draco had apologized, which was something that had probably never happened before. Harry's eyes gleamed in curious amusement as he looked up at Draco's lean form, and the platinum blonde shifted nervously (NO, Dray, don't kills me for saying that!) before settling onto a black velvet couch in front of Harry. The silence was deafening.

'Brilliant,' thought Harry. 'I was stuck on the stairs for ten minutes and had an easy enough time talking to Snape, and my five minutes in here have only brought about awkward pauses and quarreling. Ugh, I have to say something!' "So, Malfoy . . . are you excited for the Quidditch match on Saturday?"

Draco's countenance suddenly changed from aristocratically bored in appearance to angsty and prissy as he replied: "No. If it's worth losing to anyone *grr* it is to you, per usual. I don't want to play against the bloody Hufflepuffs- they're a waste of my talent. It's insulting that Slytherin is forced to go against such lowly players. At least Gryffindor and Ravenclaw players are challenging enough to be worth bothering about. Then again, it's not as though I beat them very much either . . . " Malfoy looked upon his nails sadly, and Harry stared at the other seeker in wonder.

'Surely he didn't mean anything by saying that losing to me was ok? I mean . . . but why would he accept losing to anyone, let alone me?! We're both good Seekers, sure, but to think if his father knew that his son doesn't care about losing . . . especially to Gryffindor- because of me- no it can't be! I mean Draco can't possibly- oh shit! . ?!'

As if on cue to Harry's thoughts, Draco looked up to face the brunette and yelled "Dammit, Potter, calm down you're making me nervous!"

Harry snapped. "I- I am making you nervous? I'm not the one who just said that losing to the opposing house due to a certain Seeker was okay! Bloody hell, Draco, what on earth did you mean by that?! You're a fucking Slytherin; you can't allow yourself to lose to anybody! Do you hear me? Don't you DARE undermine yourself that way! Accepting defeat is okay, but you're acting like it's inevitable. Well it's not, okay? So nut up or shut up and plan on winning!" Malfoy looked at Potter in shock- where in the hell had that come from? Both boys were sitting still (Harry still listing to the side a bit), and watching each other cautiously. Very slowly, Draco pushed himself off of the couch and headed toward Harry.

"Enlighten me, Potter. Why do you care if I lose, eh? I'm a Slytherin, the unwilling son of a Death Eater, a bloody Malfoy. Why should you give a damn if I rot in hell?" Draco comes to a stop standing over Harry, and Harry is gazing coolly back at him, though he still hosts a small blush. Draco leans over him until they are nose to nose, and inquires "Well?"

"For the same reason I couldn't leave you behind in the FiendFyre, or let you die after I SectumSempra'd you. The same reason I . . . honestly don't mind being stuck in here with the stairs gone. The same reason I don't want you to undermine yourself. I . . . I don't know how to explain it, Malfoy, because I don't know what it is. I just feel something different when I am around you that I feel around no one else. I think I, that maybe I'm in . . . "

Draco puts his mouth to Harry's ear, and whispers deeply "Love, Harry?" Harry nods slowly, and Draco pulls back to stare into the wide emerald eyes that have mesmerized him since first year when he offered friendship. The ghost of a smile passes over Draco, and the corners of his lips pull up as he croons "Welcome to the club . . . Harry."

The two waste no time in kissing each other softly, and the taste is one that neither plans on giving up anytime soon. Meanwhile, Snape gives Nearly Headless Nick the signal to put the stairs back properly as he smirks from his portrait. "Ah, Malfoy," Snape muses, "I didn't take the Unbreakable Vow for nothing. Now just as then I swear to protect and aide you . . . even if you're unaware of it." The past professor sighed contentedly, before turning around into the common room to tell the boys that others were coming. He stopped when he saw the two entangled on the couch, and turned about quickly. "Nicholas? Please put the stairs away again, it would appear that they are not quite ready to leave." Nick winked, and Severus chuckled to think of all the inconvenienced students. As confused Slytherins griped about "Those bloody stairs!" and "The lazy Squib [that] probably hasn't cleaned them right." Snape looked on wisely, before muttering "Potter, you ever-present pain in my arse, you had better make him happy."

Rest assured, Snape, that he did.

~~Finito~~


End file.
